


Band on the Run

by Oshram_Kino



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, gotg
Genre: F/M, cute baby groot scenes, few months after the movie ends?, first date of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:29:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2295068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oshram_Kino/pseuds/Oshram_Kino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After failing to find the team reliable work, Peter relies on Gamora's contacts to get their next gig. It's a simple rescue mission...Wait.. Did he not mention the arms dealers, and having to go to a war torn jungle planet?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Gamora’s boots thunked against the metal plating that served as a floor in this section of Knowhere. She could move silently if she wished – the open heels had been specifically designed for it, and to absorb the impact of a heavy landing – but while she wasn’t exactly stomping, she made no effort disguise her irritation. Not that anyone would notice; this section of the great Celestial cranium had been mined-out long ago and had become a ghost town, with few amenities and fewer people, which was why she had chosen to come up here. She paused, gazing up at the gentle curve of the enormous skull, pock-marked by drill holes, huge craters, she knew, but from this distance appearing as tiny pin-pricks. She let out a long breath and tried to force her annoyance out along with her exhalation.

Peter had once again insisted on retrieving the payment for their mission by himself. It wasn’t a matter of trust; he wasn’t stupid enough to skim from her, or Drax, or Rocket. But he was hiding something, that much was obvious. The first few times he had done so, she assumed it was habit from dealing with the Ravagers, and she could understand wanting to maintain some semblance of privacy with that band of mercenaries; she didn't trust them either, and she didn't care for the bond that Peter seemed to have with Yondu. _Is that possessiveness, that I don't like his friends? She shook her head. No, I like everyone on this crew well enough._

And she knew Peter did as well. He was the one who constantly emphasized trust, and given their collective backgrounds, she didn't expect anyone on the team to have any less of a struggle with that concept than she did. But she _wanted_ to trust Peter; he had brought them together, he was more often than anyone else the cement that bound them. And the _Milano_ had begun to feel like home; she had grown accustomed to voices rising and falling with mirth and bickering rather than the sterile monotones that those who served Thanos and Ronan employed. More than once she had caught herself smirking as Peter and Rocket went at it, Drax inserting a sly insult here and there, his wit more developed than she would have expected.

_So why is he hiding the payment from me?_ From everyone, really, but none of the rest of them seemed to care, or concealed it well if they did. She and the others had accepted Peter as the team leader, but it was hardly the despotism she had lived under most of her life. Peter’s embracing of a democratic approach to leadership –sometimes they actually voted on a course of action, which had surprised her the first time he had suggested it – strengthened the camaraderie of the team, and she knew from her own experience that people worked and fought a lot harder if they had a personal stake in whatever was going on.

She folded her arms. _Am I mad because he’s hiding the payment, or that he’s hiding the payment from **me?**_ That question led her places she didn't want to go. That side of Peter was one she had difficulty contemplating. She knew his past with women and had expected he would continue his carousing even after she had joined the crew; but in the weeks since she’d been aboard the _Milano_ , he’d stopped chasing women, or if he hadn’t, he pursued them with such secrecy that she hadn’t been able to detect it, _and there’s not much that can be hidden from me._ Gamora remained uncomfortable exploring her own feelings regarding Peter; she had absolutely no experience with romance, the entire concept not being part of her life before she had met him. Seduction, feminine wiles, these were components in her toolbox, it was one of the reasons Thanos had allowed her to remain relatively attractive; he had foreseen that she might need to ply beings of the galaxy with a smile instead of a knife, occasionally, and she had performed her share of those sorts of missions, enjoying those kills a little more than most of the others, back when she had taken pleasure from her work at all. _Most of them I killed just for touching me_ , she recalled, but she wanted Peter to touch her, or she didn’t, she wasn’t sure, but she noticed every incidental contact, every time their hands brushed, and she considered his reputation with women, and the ease with which he seemed to be able to bed them, even attractive ones. _At least one of us would have experience_ , she mused, and then she frowned at herself. _You are a daughter of Thanos and you’re standing here staring out of gaping holes in a skull at the stars like a lovesick teenager._

She turned and started heading back toward the ship, though that would take the better part of an hour. _Whatever you’re hiding from me, Peter, I will get it out of you. You may be an expert at playing this game, but I’m not exactly without skill._

*

Drax set his glass down on the wobbly metal table. “I preferred the other establishment.”

Rocket took a long tug off of something green and fizzy, wiping his whiskers. “We ain’t exactly welcome there after somebody called Ronan and blew half the place up.” He downed the rest of the glass, then gestured for another. “I know you’re not drunk enough to forget that.”

“It would be hard to get drunk here,” Drax commented. “They serve weak drinks.”

“They serve cheap weak drinks,” Rocket corrected him. “Which is an important consideration given how little money we’re making with Quill.”

A Kylorian waitress in a skirt far too tight and far too small came over and refilled Rocket’s drink; she turned to Drax, but he waved her off. “I told you when I joined the crew, I’m not interested in money.”

“Ya can’t eat for free,” Rocket spoke. He opened his mouth to add to his comment when Groot gesticulated from his pot, issuing a squeaking noise.

“Thirsty again?” Rocket asked him.

Groot’s tiny head bobbed up and down.

“I’ll get ya some ice,” Rocket told him, ignoring his tiny friend’s frown. “You don’t wanna drink what passes for water in here.”

“Would they not just make ice cubes from the water you don’t want him drinking?” Drax asked.

“Details, details,” Rocket griped, waving the waitress over again. “Glass of ice for my friend here.”

The waitress furrowed her brow, looking at Drax, until Rocket pointed to

Groot. “My little friend.”

The waitress grinned. “He’s so cute!”

Groot raised his slender arms and spoke, a high-pitched unintelligible squeal that sent ripples of laughter through the waitress. “I’ll be right back,” she said. 

“Sheesh, good thing Quill isn't here,” Rocket said. “He could get her in the sack in less than a minute.”

“I doubt Gamora would approve,” Drax spoke.

“Where’d she get off to, anyway?” Rocket asked as the waitress returned with a glass filled with ice.

“She declined to say,” Drax said, taking another gulp of his drink, grimacing. “Given her mood, I prefer her silence.”

Rocket nodded, sliding the glass close to Groot, who bent over and grabbed an ice cube with some difficulty. He shoved the cube in his mouth, but it proved too large; he gripped it with both hands and held it while he sucked on it as best he could.

“I just wish he’d find us something other than these freakin’ humanitarian runs,” Rocket groused. “They don’t pay so good.”

“We agreed to let Peter choose the missions,” Drax pointed out. “It’s his ship, and we follow his lead.” He considered his drink, then put it back down. “They also build on our reputation as the saviors of Xandar.”

Rocket made a spitting noise. “They make us look weak. ‘Ooh, there go the Guardians, delivering bandages to babies and puppies on some planet nobody cares about.’” He shook his head, slurping down some more fizzy green drink.

“Many people care for Xandar,” Drax noted. “Just not us.”

“It ain't just not us,” Rocket said, picking up the ice cube that popped out of Groot’s mouth and handing it back to him. “Anyone with any sense doesn’t want to be anywhere near Xandar. Too goody-goody.”

Drax nodded. “I share that assessment.” He drank some more, frowning, and put the drink back on the table. “I care little about which missions Peter chooses. None of them bring me any closer to Thanos.”

Rocket stared at him. “You homicidal idiot, Thanos is the last person, place or thing you want to get close to in this universe – not galaxy, universe, as in every- freakin’-thing there is. Except for maybe Galactus.”

“I have no quarrel with Galactus,” Drax spoke.

“Lucky for us,” Rocket snapped. “Didn’t you learn anything from your little vendetta with Ronan?”

“I have already admitted my rash actions with regard to Ronan put you all in danger, and I have apologized for it.” He regarded Rocket. “You are my friend, and I will not ask you to pursue Thanos with me. I shall do this on my own.”

Rocket raised his glass. “I’ll say somethin’ nice at your funeral.”

“That would be appreciated,” Drax said.

Groot leaned over and tapped Rocket on the arm, gesturing toward the glass; he could not reach the ice. Rocket handed him another cube.

“I believe Peter is seeking out less hazardous missions so as not to jeopardize us,” Drax ventured. “Our fight against Ronan very nearly got all of us killed. You should be grateful he values your life so.”

“He oughtta be grateful Yondu dropped that bounty on him,” Rocket said.

“Forty thousand would buy a lot of drinks.”

“I would stop you if you tried to turn in Peter,” Drax said. “Gamora would too.”

“I’m just jokin’,” Rocket told his companion. “It’s great to be loved by your friends, really.” He frowned, looking over Drax’s shoulder. 

Drax furrowed his brow. “What is it?” he turned quickly, only to see, as Rocket had, Gamora heading back toward the ship with a purposeful stride.

“Should we return to the ship and see what is troubling her?”

Rocket laughed. “Miss a fight between her and Quill? Not on your life.” He downed the drink, belching, and paid the tab. “Can you carry Groot? He’s always heavier after he drinks.”

Groot looked at Rocket, then turned to Drax and held out his spindly arms.

Drax scooped up Groot’s pot in one hand and headed out of the bar; Rocket snatched the glass of ice off the table and followed him.

*

“Galador thanks you,” Lahuni spoke. “I thank you as well.”

Peter glanced at his account balance on the screen. “I’m glad we could help,” Peter said. “I don’t suppose you could be a little more grateful? It’s not just me anymore. I sorta have this crew now.”

Lahuni shook her helmeted head. “It would be dishonorable to alter the terms of an agreement.”

Peter grinned. “It really wouldn’t.”

Lahuni remained motionless, and not for the first time Peter found himself vaguely irritated by the Galadorian custom of completely covering themselves, male and female, so that no part of the body showed. _Makes them almost impossible to read, which I guess is part of the point._ “Perhaps you would do well to recall that there are others on Knowhere who would take pleasure in denying you any commerce at all,” she said. “The Tivan family is not renowned for its forgiveness.”

Peter held up both hands. “You’re right, you’re right. I appreciate the work.” He glanced around Lahuni’s tiny office, which sported no windows at all, four sparsely decorated walls painted an ugly shade of yellow not unlike rotting bananas. “You have anything else available?”

Lahuni shook her helmeted head. “Your ship is too small to act as escort for any caravans I might be arranging, and there are few other settlements of Galadorians in this quadrant.” She paused a moment. “I will keep you in mind in case something unexpected arises.”

Peter nodded. “Okay. Well, good luck with the Sultans of Swing.” He turned toward the door.

Lahuni’s helmet angled. “I beg your pardon?”

“That whole war thing you’ve got going on with Dire Straits,” he explained. “The Dire _Wraiths_ ,” Lahuni corrected.

“They’re shapechangers,” Peter said. “They could be both.” He let himself out before the conversation could continue, closing the door behind him and glancing inside the tavern next to Lahuni’s Exports before deciding he was short enough on units as it was without drinking handfuls of them away. _I bet Drax and Rocket are already drunk, and Gamora_... He stopped for a moment, then continued walking.

_She sure seemed pissed when we landed_ , he thought as he threaded his way along the crowded pedestrian area. Most of the mining companies were situated a little toward the front of the head from where he was, but some of them, as well as the shipping concerns and exporters, housed offices within easy reach of the bars and brothels of Wisdom Tooth Row, which, as far as Peter knew, was merely an attempt at a witty name. _Do Celestials have wisdom teeth? Or even teeth?_ He made his way around two Kree girls who wore far too little to be tourists, returning their grins, but he kept moving. _Just my luck, I’d be tangled up in blue, and that’s when Drax would barge into my quarters with some stupid question, and I’d never hear the end of it. Or Gamora would barge in, and that would be the end of it, period._

As he approached the ship he spotted someone seated on a discarded crate, regarding his vessel.

“She’s a beauty, isn't she?” Peter asked the man.

The man looked up at him, a smile on his drawn, dirty face.

“She sure is,” the man agreed. “She’s a real—“ He stopped, smiling. “Hey, you’re Star-lord!”

Peter grinned. “Sure am. That’s the ship that saved Xandar. My ship.”

“Fantastic,” the man said. “Do you know Drax the Destroyer?”

“He’s a close personal friend of mine,” Peter said.

“He’s the one who stood up to Ronan the Accuser,” the man said, rising from the crate. “Could you tell him ‘thank you’ when you see him next? I’m an awfully big admirer of his, it would mean a lot.”

“Sure,” Peter drawled. “No problem. Happy to oblige.”

The man nodded and shambled off.

Peter entered the ship muttering under his breath and began divvying up the pay while he had the place to himself. He thought about cutting his own take a little to make the others think the reward had been a little higher than it was, but then he reasoned that Groot had done nothing but sit in a pot the entire time. _But Groot will complain to Rocket, and then Rocket will nag me for days on end._ He redid the payments, splitting the units into five even deposits, when he recalled Groot can’t talk yet and skimmed a small amount away from the potted plant, directing the bulk of it to Gamora and Rocket when the ship signaled him that someone was coming aboard. _Please be Drax please be Drax_ , he thought.

“Peter!” Gamora’s voice carried down to the hold, where he loitered. Hid. “Peter, I know you’re here.”

For a brief moment Peter considered staying absolutely still, motionless, so she couldn’t hear him; then he reasoned things would go worse for him if she thought he was hiding, so he called out, “I’m down in the hold.”

He could hear her tread as she approached the ladder. “Come up here,” she said. “I need to talk to you.”

“Any reason you can’t come down?” he asked.

“It smells down there,” she said.

“You know, Rocket crawls over every inch of this ship,” he tossed back up.

“It’s gonna smell the same everywhere.”

“Peter!” she snapped. “I’m serious.”

“When are you not?” he groused quietly, climbing up the stairs.

“What?” she asked him.

“I said, ‘man, you look hot.’”

She folded her arms. “Stop trying to distract me.”

“Did it work?” he asked, grinning.

“No,” she spoke.

He shrugged. “Have to try harder next time.” He moved past her, heading toward his cabin.

“Peter!” she called after him.

*

He paused at the door of his quarters, then turned to face her. “Can we talk about it in my cabin?”

“We most certainly can not,” Gamora replied.

“How about the cockpit?” Peter asked.

Gamora regarded him. “How about right here?”

“Fine. But you do look really hot in the indirect lighting,” he told her.

“Peter,” she said, “I need to talk to you about the money we're getting from our missions.”

He leaned in toward her. “Look, don’t tell Groot or Rocket, but I gave you a little extra from this last one because, well, Groot being a potted plant and all, he doesn't deserve a full share.”

“That’s not what I care about,” she spoke.

“You don't care about money now?” Peter asked. “Whatever Drax is drinking, he must have slipped you some. I gotta get some for Rocket, then I could pocket the entire take.”

She ignored his grin. “I’m not bothered by the amounts, although they do seem a bit low for the effort we’re putting into the missions,” she said. “What I am concerned about is—“

He held up a hand. “You sure you don’t want to have this chat in private?”

“No,” she answered. “I mean yes, I am sure.”

“Because Drax and Rocket are back,” he said. He tilted his head toward his cabin. “We’re right here.”

Gamora sighed.

“Don’t let us interrupt,” Rocket said from the hatchway.

“You said there would be fighting,” Drax said, setting Groot down. “There’s no fighting.”

“I assumed there would be,” Rocket said. “She looked pretty pissed coming back here.”

“You were following me?” Gamora asked Rocket.

“Only one way back to the ship,” Rocket answered. “We sorta had to.”

Gamora returned her attention to Peter. “Let’s continue this conversation elsewhere.”

“But you’re right outside his room,” Rocket spoke. “I promise we won’t listen at the doorway or anything.”

“Rocket’s got a point,” Peter said.

Gamora glared at him, her fists clenching.

Drax said, “This argument will almost certainly lead to a physical confrontation of one sort or another, none of which I have any desire to witness. Come, Rocket.”

“And miss the best part?” Rocket asked. “No way!”

Groot squealed, but Rocket merely chuckled in response.

Drax lifted Groot’s pot. “They do not need us spectating on their amorous altercation.”

Gamora stared daggers at Drax. “That is not going to happen!”

“Yes they do,” Rocket said. “We could give them pointers, especially the broad. She couldn’t’ve gotten up to much lovin’ while she was a member of Ronan’s hit squad.”

Gamora turned to face Rocket. “My romantic life is none of your concern.”

“Honey, you don't have a romantic life,” Rocket spoke.

“Out!” Gamora seethed. “Now!”

Rocket shrugged. “I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” he said. “You know, for an assassin, you’re kinda touchy.” He looked up at Drax. “Let’s go. I’ve got some booze stashed around here somewhere, the good stuff, not like that swill back in the bar.”

“That would be best,” Drax said. “We should be respectful and let them copulate in peace.” The three of them headed down toward the hold.

“We are not going to copulate!” Gamora yelled after them.

“We’re not?” Peter asked. “Ever?”

“Not right now we’re not,” Gamora assured him.

“So it’s not off the table,” Peter said, “it’s just not on tonight’s menu.”

“Peter,” she sighed.

“Is that the problem? Is that what you really wanted to talk to me about, that I haven’t been showing you enough attention?”

“No,” Gamora said.

“But that is a problem, I know. I promise I’ll do better.”

She folded her arms and went silent, staring at him.

“Okay,” he said, “what is it?”

“I don’t like it that you’re excluding me from collecting the payments with you,” she said.

“That’s what you’re upset about?” Peter asked.

Gamora nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s it?”

“You’re the one who’s always saying we need to trust each other,” Gamora said. “That includes you.”

“Fine,” he said. “Done. Next time I go to fetch our pay, you’re more than welcome to come along.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don't say it,” he said, moving closer. “Show me.”

“Show you what?” she asked.

“Show me your thanks,” he said in a low voice.

“I’ll show you my thanks when you get us a real payday,” Gamora said, stepping past him, heading toward her own quarters.

Peter watched her round the corner, staring for a moment even after she had passed from sight, when he heard Rocket’s laugh echoing up from the cargo hold. After a brief paused, he moved to join the others.

*

“My dear Mr. Quill,” the Broker spoke, “how good it is to hear from you. How may I be of service this fine day?”

Peter frowned at the small, glitchy hand-held screen, rapping it against the railing, which did little to improve the picture. “Broker, how’s it hangin’?” Peter asked.

“It’s hanging acceptably,” the Broker returned. “And yourself?” 

“I suppose you know why I’m calling,” Peter spoke.

The Broker grinned. “Do enlighten me.”

“I was hopin’ you might have a job for me,” Peter said.

“Nothing would make me happier than to do business with the saviors of Xandar,” Broker spoke.

“And...” Peter prompted.

“It’s rather more of a ‘but’, I’m afraid,” Broker said. “Xandar’s economy has taken a turn for the worse following the massive destruction caused by Ronan’s attack – even though you and your crew ably stopped him from destroying the planet, for which we are still exceptionally grateful – and the market for, shall we say, exclusive items has fallen off sharply.” He leaned in toward the screen and lowered his voice. “I’m barely getting by as it is. A large payday would be out of my ability to facilitate at the moment. I am most sorry.”

“Me too,” Peter nodded, killing the connection. He sighed, gazing out at the long row of mining pods for a moment, and rubbed his forehead, trying to will away the headache. _Last time I try to keep pace with Drax and Rocket,_ he thought as he tapped the screen again.

The image of a handsome man with light pink skin appeared. “Well, if it isn't Star-lord, Xandar’s favorite son! What’s up?”

“Parkoran,” Peter greeted the Xandarian. “How’s tricks?”

“Same shit different day,” Parkoran returned. “Where the hell are you? Did they forget to pay their lighting bill?”

“Knowhere,” Peter replied.

“You don't love us on Xandar anymore?” Parkoran asked.

“There’s not enough work on Xandar,” Peter said.

“And yet here you are calling me, so there must not be much work on Knowhere either,” Parkoran said. “Look, I told you, if anything good came up, I’d call you, right?”

“Yeah,” Peter said.

“And have I called you?”

“No,” Peter said.

“So where does that leave us?” Parkoran asked.

Peter stared at the screen. “Nothing?”

“Nothing worth your while,” Parkoran said. “Look, I have some shit work, but you’re way out there at Knowhere, and this is all local scrub jobs I’m talking about, you would hire a Badoon orphan to do it. I wouldn't insult you with stuff like this.”

“Go ahead, insult me,” Peter said.

“Seriously,” Parkoran said. “I would love to slide something your way, to have my business affiliated with Star-lord, I really would. But I just don't have anything worth your while to do. Not shittin’ you, my friend.”

“Ok,” Peter sighed. “Call me when you do.”

“You’re at the top of my list,” Parkoran managed to squeeze in just before Peter terminated the call.

He looked out at the pods again, remembering the last time he’d been in one, dodging Necrocraft and saving Gamora’s life; that brought a grin to his face, but she won't stay around forever if you can’t pay her. He furrowed his brow and tapped the screen again, trying a third number. A puffy yellow face stared out at him. “Peter Quill,” the face spoke. “An honor to hear from you.”

“We both know you have no honor, Oker,” Peter spoke.

“Then I’ll steal some of yours,” Oker said. “What’s on your mind?”

“Getting some decent-paying work,” Peter said. “You think you can help me with that?”

“Love to,” Oker said. “Define decent-paying.”

“Anything thirty or over,” Peter said.

Oker tsked. “Hmm, that’s sorta high-end for me.”

“I’ve done jobs for you that paid fifty,” Peter said.

“On occasion,” Okar agreed. “This not being one of them.”

“Nothing?” Peter groused.

“Nothing for more than thirty,” Okar said. “I don't even have anything for more than twenty. Wish I could help you.”

“I know, I know, it’s an honor to do business with the great Star-lord,” Peter said.

“Hell with that,” Oker said. “You work cheap and you’re reliable. That’s why I like doing business with you. But I got nothing worth your time, nothing in your range.” Oker gestured with one hand. “Tell you what, ditch that crew of yours and take some of my lowball stuff. We both make out.”

“No can do,” Peter said. “Thanks anyway, you greedy yellow bastard.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Oker spoke.

Peter grinned and ended the call.

“Man, I wish this headache would go away,” Peter spoke. “Both of them.”

 

*

Oker sat back in his plush chair. “Good enough?” he said.  
Yondu nodded, handing him a folded wad of scrip. “Perfect. That boy’ll be beggin’ to come back to work with me before you know it.”

*

“Anybody seen Gamora?” Peter asked as he made his way down to the hold.

“We have all seen Gamora,” Drax said, his gaze intent on the screen in front of him. “She is a member of the crew. Why do you ask such a strange question?”

Peter shook his head, stepping over Groot, in his pot on the floor. He waved at Peter, but Peter didn't see him.

“Rocket?” Peter asked.

“Yo,” Rocket returned, buried to his torso in the ship’s guts.

“Have you seen Gamora?”

“She’s not in here,” Rocket said. “She wouldn’t fit.” He emerged from the conduit. “Also, it’s too dirty. She’d bitch about that.”

Peter shot him a look.

“Keepin’ track of the broad is your department,” Rocket said. He lifted a large wrench and dropped it, causing Peter to wince. “How’s that hangover treatin’ ya, Quill?”

“It's fine,” Peter lied. “Neither of you knows where Gamora is?”

“You don’t either,” Rocket pointed out.

Peter ignored the remark. “What are you working on?”

“I’m tuning your port engine,” Rocket said. “I noticed when you take off fast, which is often, your ship lists a little to starboard, Star-lord.” Rocket chuckled at his pun. “Anyways I figure at some point we’re really going to have to get out of someplace in a hurry, and I don’t want the ship listing to one side and getting shot down.” Rocket picked up the wrench and said, “You’re welcome.” He bent back into the conduit.

“Drax,” Peter said. “Any idea where Gamora is?”

“She does not discuss her comings and goings with me,” Drax answered. “She seemed moody earlier when she left, but since she always seems moody, I took no special notice of it.” He turned away from the screen. “Do you have work for us?”

“Not yet,” Peter said. “Still workin’ on that.”

Drax nodded and returned his attention to the screen. Peter moved behind him, peering over his shoulder. “What are you researching?”

“They say Thanos makes his home on an inhospitable rock called Sanctuary,” Drax replied. “I am trying to discover its location. It is not a simple task.”

“This is a question I’m going to regret asking,” Peter said, “but why are you trying to find Thanos’ house?”

“Not his house, the titan himself,” Drax corrected.

Peter remained silent.

“When Ronan killed my family, he was working for Thanos, so it is Thanos who is ultimately responsible for their deaths,” Drax said. “He must pay for his crimes.”

“We are not going after Thanos,” Peter said.

“No,” Drax said. “As I told Rocket, I would not endanger my friends so, even if you all asked to help me.” He glanced at Peter. “I will seek him out myself.”

Peter put a hand on Drax’s shoulder. “Good luck with that.”

“Thank you,” Drax said, leaning forward to peer at the screen. Peter turned to leave when he felt a tug on his pants leg. He looked down to see Groot tugging on the fabric, free of his pot.

“Hey, you’re free,” Peter said.

Groot nodded and held up his arms. Peter picked him up. “Hey, guys, Groot’s free of his pot.”

Drax said nothing; Rocket’s voice issued from within the ship. “Great, great. He’s gonna need a shower, Quill. Lotsa water.”

Peter looked at Groot. “How long does he stay small like this?” he asked.

Groot squeaked something in reply; Peter couldn't make out what it was. “What was that, little buddy?”

“I’d be good and damned surprised if it was anything other than ‘I am Groot,’” Rocket said.

Peter glanced over his shoulder. “I know it was probably ‘I am Groot,’ I’m just trying to be nice,” he said. “Right Groot?”

Groot nodded his head up and down, then raised his arms and lowered them slowly, his tiny fingers wriggling back and forth.

“Shower?” Peter asked.

Groot nodded.

“Hey Quill, why don’t you call Gamora?” Rocket asked.

“Don’t you think I tried that?” he replied. “She’s not answering.”

Rocket emerged from the conduit. “Maybe she’s mad at you.”

“Why would she be mad at me?” Peter asked.

Rocket shrugged, looking through the tool box. “She gets mad at everybody. Just figured maybe it was your turn.” He selected a spanner and sank back into the ship.

“Come on, Groot,” Peter said. “Let’s get you some water.” Groot nodded his agreement.

*

“We can talk freely,” Gamora spoke at her portable screen.

“I’ve heard you are no longer working solo,” her caller said.

“Your sources are well-informed,” Gamora said. “Although with our images plastered all over Xandar, they’d have to be living in a cave not to know that.” She regarded his small image. “What do you want, Kalenn?”

“Straight to the point. I’ve always admired that about you, Gamora. You’re all business.”

“Flattery is pointless,” she said. “Why do you contact me?”

“Because I need your help. This crew you run with, they have access to a ship?”

She nodded.

“Good. One of my teams has run into a bit of trouble and I need an extraction.”

Gamora frowned. “You have no ships of your own?”

Kalenn shook his head. “The peace treaty the Kree signed with Xandar has allowed them to set their sights on my people,” Kalenn said. “As you’d expect, a weapons dealer finds himself stretched thin at such a juncture.”

“The Kree are attacking the Shi’ar?” Gamora asked.

Kalenn nodded. “As it turns out, the only thing holding them back was fear that the zealot Ronan would turn his attention on his own people and they would be forced to deal with him.” Kalenn grimaced. “You solved that problem for them nicely.”

“And now they’re settling old scores,” Gamora said.

“Many,” Kalenn agreed. “Business is booming. I really shouldn't complain; I’m making scrip faster than I can count it. Which is why I can afford to pay you handsomely to go fetch Pessar and his team for me.”

“Where are they?” Gamora asked. “And how much?”

“How does four-hundred-thousand strike you?”

“As exorbitant,” Gamora returned. “Where are they?”

“On a little outpost called Kaptilo,” Kalenn told her. “The Kree aren’t headed directly there, but they’re in the vicinity, and they’re unlikely to overlook a bunch of Shi’ar gunrunners.”

Gamora asked, “They have no ship of their own?”

“Damaged in the landing,” Kalenn disclosed. “Kaptilo’s mostly jungle, and they stupidly set down too close to a sinkhole. Their ship is damaged beyond the ability of that small outpost to repair.”

“I’ll run it by the captain of my ship,” Gamora said. “But I doubt he’ll be able to resist a payday as big as you’re offering.”

“Don't take too long to decide,” Kalenn spoke. “I’m not paying for corpses, I need them alive. And the Kree are being extremely thorough. Like I said, they may not be headed directly there, but it’s only a matter of time – a small matter - before they discover Pessar and exterminate him. Or worse, capture him and torture him for information.”

Gamora nodded. “I’ll contact you as soon as he decides. It shouldn't be too long.”

“I look forward to hearing from you,” Kalenn said, making a pinching motion toward the screen that ended the call. Gamora slid her small screen into her pocket and headed back to the Milano, which was close by. She had learned that when she desired privacy that she didn't always have to travel a great distance from the ship. She often preferred to, but all she had to do was head in the direction away from the taverns on Wisdom Tooth and none of the rest of the crew would ever bump into her. She boarded the Milano after a short walk, only to find Drax and Rocket in the hold.

“Where’s Peter?” she asked.

“He was here not long ago, seeking you,” Drax replied.

“He was?” Gamora asked.

“He’s taking a shower with Groot,” Rocket answered, his voice echoing along the metal floor. Gamora looked down and spotted Groot’s former home.

“Groot is free now?” she asked.

“He was always free,” Rocket said. “He hangs with me because it’s a good living.”

“You know what I mean,” Gamora said. She glanced at Drax. “Are you still researching Thanos?”

“I was,” Drax admitted, “but it seemed to upset Peter, so now I’m searching for a local bar that doesn't serve thinned-down drinks.”

“I’m sure you’ll find one,” she said. “There are only thousands of them here.” “That’s what is making the search so challenging,” Drax said. “So many choices.”

Gamora rolled her eyes. “Peter!” she called out.

“Can’t hear you in the shower,” Rocket said, emerging from the tube. “You gotta clean your ears once in a while, you don't hear so good.”

Gamora turned and climbed the stairs, heading toward Peter’s cabin. A knock on the door revealed that he wasn’t there, but she could hear water running, so she moved to the room Rocket inhabited, following the sound.

She could see from the doorway Peter sitting cross-legged on the floor just outside the shower, his shirt off as he watched Groot showering. The tiny flora drank as much water as he could, his mouth open, humming as he washed himself. Peter turned around suddenly, looking at Gamora. He stood up, a smile sliding from his face, and she saw why he had stripped; his torso was wet, droplets running down it, and she drew her eyes away from it with some hesitation.

“Gamora,” he said.

“Peter,” she returned.

They stared at one another for a moment. “Groot’s free of his pot,” Peter offered.

“So I see,” Gamora stated. She took a step into the room, but it smelled very strongly of Rocket’s aroma, so she stepped back out. “I have something to tell you, but I’d rather do it in private,” she said.

“We’re pretty private now,” Peter said, closing the shower door. “Is he safe alone in there?” Gamora asked.

“He’s wood,” Peter said. “He’ll float. What did you want to tell me?”

“Private,” she said, “as in off the ship.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Just you and me?”

“That would be indicated by ‘private,’ yes,” Gamora replied.

“Like a date?” Peter asked, moving closer.

Gamora’s dark eyes flicked down to his torso and back up to his grin. “Like a date,” she agreed.

“Like a date, or a real date?” he pressed.

Gamora met his eyes. “If you want this to be a real date, you’ll have to buy something nice to wear,” she told him. “And you’ll have to take me someplace expensive enough to impress me. Which on Knowhere won’t be easy.”

“I’ll think of something,” he said. “Eight o’clock?”

“What I have to say is somewhat pressing,” she said. “Make it six.”

“Six, you got it,” he spoke.

Gamora turned to leave. “Drax is researching taverns. He might be able to suggest someplace.”

“You think I’m gonna take dating advice from Drax?” Peter asked.

Gamora shrugged. “Do as you like. I have errands to run. I’ll be back at quarter-to-six. Be ready,” she said, heading down the exit ramp.

Peter started to head down to the hold to talk to Drax when he remembered Groot and darted into the shower. Groot seemed to have grown a few inches already, but he could not reach the controls. Peter shut off the shower and scooped him up. “Let’s take you to see Rocket,” he said.

*

“No,” Peter said. “Keep checking.”

Drax pulled up the next restaurant on his screen.

“Lookie what we have here,” Rocket spoke, popping the cover on a handheld device and poking around inside.

“Hey, don’t take that apart,” Peter told him.

“Do you even know what this is?” Rocket asked. “Do you just collect shiny stuff, or did you raid the Ravagers supply bin and grab whatever looked cool when you split on them?”

“That’s a Chronotomic Image Builder,” Peter said.

“Very good,” Rocket said, inspecting the wiring. “It could use a little maintenance, by the way.” He disconnected the power source and began to work. “You know, if you amp one of these babies up, they can project a lot more than what ruins used to look like.”

“Don’t break it,” Peter said. He looked back at Drax’s screen. “No,” he pronounced. “Keep going. Try the nicer places.”

“You cannot afford the nicer places,” Drax said.

“Let’s pretend I can,” Peter said. He looked over at Rocket, who already had the device in a dozen pieces on the floor. “I said don’t break it.”

“Nothin’ wrong with my hearing,” Rocket shot back. “This thing will work so well when I’m done with it, you could sell it back to Yondu for twice what it’s worth.” Rocket scratched his nose. “Maybe three times, if I can find that stabilizing chip for the projecting lens.”

“I’m not selling it back to Yondu,” Peter said.

“I assume you stole it from him,” Rocket said. “I can’t believe that bald blue idiot ever actually gave you anything other than a hard time.” Rocket picked up a piece, then put it back down. “After all, he did threaten to eat you.”

“That was a long time ago,” Peter said. To Drax he said, “Keep going.”

“You couldn’t afford that place anyway,” Drax commented.

Groot leaned over and lifted a small piece, offering it up to Rocket, who inspected it, then inserted it back into the Image Builder. “Speaking of eating, I wouldn’t take Drax’s dining recommendations. He said he’s partial to Skrullian eel.”

“I said I had tried it and did not vomit,” Drax spoke. “This one,” he said. “A Taste of Xandar. Classy and expensive. Excellent reviews. Just what you’re looking for.”

Peter peered, watching the visual tour of the place.

“If you wanted a taste of Xandar, why don’t we just go back there? I’m sure you could use your heroic reputation to get a free meal somewhere,” Rocket said.

Drax leaned back in the chair to get a line-of-sight on Rocket. “He seeks to impress Gamora,” the big man related. “A free meal would not do so.”

“You’re doin’ all this for her?” Rocket asked.

“Though I’m not sure why, at the moment,” Peter said. “Seven unit signs? That’s the most expensive rating on the guide.”

“Which is why you must choose it,” Drax said, pressing the button to make a reservation.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked.

Drax swiveled in the chair to face him. “Gamora is not one of your conquests that you can simply discard and forget,” Drax spoke. “She will still be here if you treat her badly, and she does not impress me as one who forgives easily.”

“Look who’s freakin’ talkin’,” Rocket put in.

“When I was wooing my Hovat, before she was my wife, I treated her to only the very best. She had many other suitors before me, but I bested them all – some in combat, some by perseverance, and the rest by treating her as she deserved, like a queen.” He went quiet a moment, then added, “You must tread the same path if you wish to win Gamora.”

“Big and beefy over there might have a point,” Rocket said. “And keep in mind, she can carve you up nine ways to Sunday if you piss her off, so don’t, you idiot. Get her the good champagne and the flowers and all that crap. Chicks love that stuff.”

“Excuse me,” Peter said, “of the three of us, who has taken the most women to bed? The talking raccoon or the guy so hung up on his wife he tried to kill Ronan single-handedly to avenge her? I’ve had my share of women, I know what girls like.”

“Okay, Casanova,” Rocket chuckled. “I get the ship when she guts you.”

“Precisely, Peter,” Drax said. “You have bedded many girls. But this is a woman, the daughter of Thanos, and your usual tricks will not work.”

Rocket pointed at Peter. “You goin’ dressed like that?”

Groot shook his head no, waving both hands.

“Nah, I gotta get a monkey suit too,” Peter said.

“Why would dressing like a simian impress Gamora?” Drax asked. Peter sighed. “Just find me a tailor, quick.”

Drax stood up. “I am not your matchmaker. Find a tailor yourself.” He turned to Rocket. “Are you finished with that device? I found another bar we should try.”

Rocket snapped the Image Builder closed. “Done and at least ten times better than it was before I cracked the case.” He tossed it onto a pile of parts and said, “Let’s go get smashed.” He leaned down, extending one arm, and Groot climbed up onto his back. He spoke, but it sounded more like a whistle than words.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get you some ice,” Rocket said. He turned to Peter. “Quill, don’t screw this up. Human blood is a really hard stain to get out of almost anything.”

Peter, scrolling through the listings for tailors, ignored him.

*

Gamora paused at the entrance. “Here?” she asked.

“Something wrong with this place?” he asked.

Gamora shook her head. “No,” she spoke.

Peter turned to face her. “You said expensive enough to impress you,” he reminded her.

Gamora nodded. “Very well,” she said, stepping through the door after he opened it for her. Inside A Taste of Xandar, the waitstaff all wore Xandarian-style uniforms, stiff, formal navy blue jackets with white trousers and dark shoes. A bald woman whose skin tone matched the brass buttons on her jacket approached them. “Quill, party of two?” she asked.

Peter nodded, glancing at Gamora. “That’s us.”

“Right this way,” the hostess spoke, heading into the dining room.

Gamora noticed that while Peter’s suit had been cut to a more casual style than the quasi-military jackets the waitstaff donned, the blue was nearly the same hue, which almost made her grin. Peter held out her chair when they arrived at the table and she sat. Her own outfit she had actually purchased before they had left Xandar, an indulgence especially because she had doubted she would ever wear it; her black suit jacket was similar to his, though fashioned from velvet. A dark blouse peeked out from beneath it, and black leggings with a sheen completed the outfit. She had forgotten about shoes and had spent a half-hour polishing her only pair of black boots. Peter sat down, that charming smile on his face, and he said, “You look fantastic.”

Gamora offered him the tiniest of grins. “You bought something nice to wear.”

“Are you kidding?” he asked. “I had this in the back of my closet.”

Before he could continue, the waitress returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. When she had finished pouring for them she took their orders and withdrew. Gamora took a sip of wine, liked it, and asked, “Have you ever gone to this much trouble for a woman?”

“This isn't trouble,” he said. “Rescuing you from the void of space was trouble.” He smiled. “This is just treating you to what you deserve.”

She glanced around the restaurant, which had been decorated in the older, more formal style that had been the rage on Xandar a generation ago: columns decorated with astronomical bodies gently twirled as they rose to a high ceiling; deep blue tapestries hung along the windows, parted at the moment to reveal the celestial view of a nebula; and tiny amber lights floated a few feet above their heads, providing intimate if intermittent illumination. “This is far better than what I am used to,” she told him. “But it is appreciated.”

“You only get one chance to make a first impression,” Peter said, sipping on his wine. “And I know, you live on the ship, it’s not like you don’t know me. But you don’t know me like this. In this way, I mean.”

Gamora took a little more wine. “This is certainly private, away from the others,” she said.

“We could have done that on that bench you like to sit on right around the corner from the ship,” Peter said. At her look, he added, “You thought I didn't know about that? You don’t always walk halfway across the head to get some alone time.”

“You followed me?” she asked.

He nodded. “I wanted to talk to you one time, so I followed you out of the ship and saw where you were headed. But you looked like you really wanted to be alone, so I let you be.”

“I am still unaccustomed to living with others,” she said. “Even others who are my friends.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Peter said. “I’ve been alone most of my life.”

“You had Yondu and the Ravagers,” she said.

“Have you met those guys?” Peter asked. “They’re better than no family, yeah, but they’re not better than this family. Us. You know, our family, the Guardians.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “I completely get needing your alone time, but I also get needing a family as well.”

“Peter,” she spoke, lowering her voice, “there’s a reason why I wanted privacy.”

“Me too,” he said.

“I have something to tell you,” she said.

“I’m all ears,” he promised.

“I found us a job,” she said.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly what I was expecting.”

“I know you’ve been trying hard to find us a substantial payday, and I wanted to tell you privately so you could present it to the others as if it were your idea, your arrangement.”

He withdrew his hand. “I don't need you to make me look good in front of the team,” he said.

“Apparently, at least this time, you do,” Gamora said.

He stood up, scowling at her.

“If you storm out, I’m still going to stay and enjoy my meal,” she said, taking a sip of wine. “I’d rather enjoy it with you here.”

Peter sat back down. “You undercut me,” he hissed. “You went behind my back.”

“He called me,” Gamora explained.

“He?” Peter growled. “He who?”

“A Shi’ar arms dealer named Kalenn,” she spoke.

“I didn't know you were cozy with bird people,” he said.

“Says the man who slept with an Aaskavarian,” she noted.

“It was one time, and it was for a job,” he said.

Gamora regarded him. “Kalenn was a business contact who always came through in a pinch. Our relationship was purely professional – just like this one will be if you continue to act jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Peter lied.

“You have nothing to be envious of,” she said. “Kalenn is a valuable resource but I find him personally repugnant.”

“What’s the pay?” Peter asked.

“Four-hundred-thousand,” she told him.

“What?” Peter asked, too loudly.

She shushed him. “That will keep the others off your back for a while.”

“Actually, the only one on my back about all this was you,” he said.

“Although I’d rather be on your back.”

She looked at him quizzically for a moment, then narrowed her eyes. “What makes you think you’d get to be on top?”

Peter was spared the burden of a reply by the arrival of their food. When the waitress had left, Gamora said, “Eat up. You’ll need your stamina.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, but he grinned. “Will I now?”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s a long flight to Kaptilo.” She shot him a smirk as she dug into her meal.

*

The _Milano_ banked gently as she soared away from Knowhere, heading in the general direction of Shi'ar space.

"It is impressive how far one must travel away from Knowhere to see it for what it really is," Drax said as he gazed out the window at the Celestial head. "I do not think I would enjoy tiny people crawling around in my skull."

"First of all, you'd be dead, so you wouldn't really mind it, and second of all, you get the same view going in," Rocket said. "You get to be impressed then. Unless you're me, I was asleep the first time I came here."

"Really?" Peter asked.

"Asleep, incarcerated," Rocket said. "Same difference.” He looked down at Groot, who lay curled up slumbering in his lap. “So where exactly is this little hellhole you’re taking us to, Quill?”

Peter glanced over his shoulder; Gamora occupied the seat next to his, with Rocket and Drax seated behind them. “Kaptilo,” Peter replied. “It’s not too far inside Shi’ar space.”

“Kraptilo?” Rocket asked. “Never heard of it.”

“There’s not much there,” Peter said.

“So why are we headed there?” Rocket asked.

“An extraction job,” Peter supplied. “Couple of people are stranded there, we have to retrieve them. Real gravy run, but they’re desperate to get off-planet.”

“How desperate?” Rocket asked. “Fifty thousand? A hundred?”

“Somewhere in that neighborhood,” Peter said.

Gamora looked at him but said nothing.

“So who are these rich, desperate idiots we’re picking up?” Rocket asked. “Old friends of yours?”

“Not exactly,” Peter said. “They work for Kalenn, this Shi’ar—“

“I know who Killer Kalenn is,” Rocket said. “Everybody on this side of the galaxy has heard of Kalenn. I didn't figure you for someone who would associate with him.” Rocket stared at Peter and narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute, this smells funny. He’s not an old friend of yours, he’s an old friend of the broad’s.”

Gamora hissed at him, “I’m right here.”

“And I’m right here next to ya, sister,” Rocket said. “So you called Kalenn—“

“Kalenn called me,” Gamora said. “I have no love for the man or his employees but he is paying us handsomely to fetch them.”

“Are they in some kind of trouble?” Drax asked.

“Not as far as we know,” Peter said. He looked at Gamora. “Are they?”

She shook her head.

“It seems odd that we would be tasked to retrieve them with such haste if they were not in danger,” Drax observed.

Rocket frowned. “What are you not telling us?”

Peter looked over at Gamora. “What are you not telling us?”

Gamora remained silent a moment. Finally she said, “The Kree are moving into Shi’ar territory. While they haven’t specifically targeted Kaptilo, there’s no doubt what they’ll do if they discover some of Kalenn’s men.”

“Forget it,” Rocket said. “Better them than us. Even if they are paying a hundred thousand units.”

“He’s a weapons dealer,” Gamora pointed out. “Maybe if Kalenn is grateful, you might be able to add to your arsenal.”

“It’s not worth it,” Rocket said. “The Kree are a race of sociopaths who are always at war with somebody somewhere. They live for violence. They crave it like we crave money.”

“I do not crave money,” Drax said, “and I would be happy to face off against the Kree.”

“If we’re lucky, no one will have to face off against anyone,” Peter said. “We swoop in, get Kalenn’s people, and blast back into space before anyone knows we were ever there. Easy payday, no pissed-off Kree, just a very wealthy and grateful weapons dealer. Who may become a useful contact in the future.”

“You wanna blow stuff up, just ask me,” Rocket said. “I can build you weapons for whatever you want.” He frowned. “Your scenario is assumin’ everything goes right.”

“We should assume we cannot do this?” Drax asked.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’,” Rocket spoke.

“That’s what it sounds like,” Gamora said.

“Look, Rocket, guys, we already agreed to it,” Peter said. “Now anything you wanna take along with you on the planet so you feel safe, by all means, do it. But we are going to Kaptilo, we are picking up those Shi’ar, and we are going to be very richly rewarded by a guy who sells death for a living.” He glanced at Gamora and Rocket. “I’m not seeing any downside here.”

“How about freakin’ Kree warships that make the Xandarian Star Force look like kiddie toys?” Rocket asked. “Not to mention getting on the bad side of an interstellar empire full of crabby blue people.”

“They’re not that bad,” Gamora said. “They have a peace treaty with Xandar.”

“Which they made so that they could attack the Shi’ar,” Rocket noted.

“They’re probably grateful to us for taking care of Ronan,” Peter spoke.

“They stole your idiot Walkman and your idiot mixtape,” Rocket snarled.

Peter held up both hands. “Let’s not make this personal. I cracked that guy’s skull with the orb.”

“If they’re willing to sink that low, who knows what they might be up to with the Shi’ar?” Rocket asked.

“I already told Kalenn we would do it,” Gamora said, “so this bickering is pointless.”

“My bickering is never pointless,” Rocket said. He looked at Gamora. “If you committed us, fine, I got your back. But like I said, something smells funny about this. I’m just sayin’, everyone keep your eyes open at all times.”

“I was planning on sleeping during the trip,” Drax said.

“When we get there,” Rocket amended.

Drax nodded and shut his eyes.

*

“Are you sure this is the right planet?” Rocket asked, inspecting the display.

“Kaptilo,” Peter said. “Definitely the right place.”

“Look at this place, it’s nothing but jungle, where it isn't ocean. Why would the Kree bother coming here?”

“Shi’ar,” Gamora supplied.

“For that matter, why would Killer Kalenn send people here? Who is there to sell weapons to here? Natives? And what are they gonna pay for them with? Beads? Leaves?” Rocket shook his head. “Somethin’ don’t add up.” He hopped down off his chair. “I’m gonna go wake Drax.”

Peter looked at Gamora. “Rocket’s got a point. There’s not much down there.” He checked a few other displays. “No Kree in the area either.”

“Did you want a Kree fleet nearby?” Gamora asked.

“Not really,” Peter said. “I just hope we got here before them and not after. I doubt your buddy is gonna pay for corpses.”

“Kalenn is not my buddy,” Gamora said. She lowered her voice. “I didn't know it was so easy to make you jealous.”

Peter said, “I told you, I’m not jealous of him. If I’m gonna be jealous of everyone who knew you before me, I’d have to be jealous of Thanos too. Which I’m not.”

“Take it from me,” Gamora said, “it can be a blessing not knowing who your father is.”

“But you were adopted,” Peter said. “That counts for something.”

Gamora leaned forward, peering at the largest screen. “There,” she said. “There’s a settlement.”

Peter squinted. “Settlement feels kinda generous for that speck. Camp, maybe.” He rotated the image, zooming in. “I’ll be damned, they have a spaceport. A tiny ass landing field that probably doesn’t even sell fuel, but they have someplace we can put down.” He frowned. “Why didn’t your birdy pals land there? Why would you try to land in the jungle and fall in a sinkhole? What are these guys, morons?”

“They’re arms dealers, not navigators,” Gamora said.

“Yeah, you didn't go to flight school, but you have enough common sense not to try to land a spaceship in the middle of a jungle.” He shook his head. “Rocket’s right. Something’s fishy about all this.”

“The Shi’ar are desperate,” Gamora said. “For decades they have counted on the balance between the Kree and Xandar to keep their ailing empire safe. Now that the Kree have secured a long border, the Shi’ar know they’re in for a dark time. It could mean the end of their empire.”

“And we get to feed off the corpse,” Peter said. “Well, call your contact, let him know we’re here. And have him get everyone to the spaceport. I’m not dropping the Milano into a sinkhole for this guy.”

Gamora flashed him a grin as she withdrew her portable screen from her pocket. Peter zoomed in further on the display. “Hey, they’ve got ships down there,” he said.

“Pessar,” Gamora said. “We’re in the system. We should be there shortly. Round up everyone at the spaceport. We’ll touch down and get your people.”

“Why didn't they just charter one of the ships already down there?” Peter asked.

Gamora shrugged.

“We’ll be there,” Pessar promised. Gamora closed the call.

“They’re arms dealers, they have money,” Peter said. “So why not charter a ship?”

“Kalenn’s scrip isn't good enough for you?” Gamora asked.

“His scrip is fine, but if has that much to throw around, then he should have given his people some so they could hire their own ride.” He looked at her. “None of this strikes you as a little hinkey?”

“Hinkey?” she repeated.

“Weird, oddball, screwy,” he explained.

“There could be a local war going on, which we would know nothing about,” Gamora said. “Or maybe he’s arming the settlement against the Kree. Kalenn could have any number of sound reasons for wanting to do business here. I’ll admit some of the circumstances feel odd, but he’s an arms dealer. He and his people have to be circumspect in who they contract with. Maybe the locals turned his people down and refuse to fly them out of here.”

“Maybe they sabotaged their ship and we’re heading down into a war zone,” Peter said.

“That’s possible,” Gamora said. “I suggest we pack extra weapons, just to be safe.”

“I wish Groot was more than a sapling,” Peter spoke. “We’re headed into a jungle. A walking tree would be a big help.”

“See if he’s strong enough for us to take. Normally I’d argue against it, but you raise a good point.”

Peter looked at her.

“What?” she asked.

“This is the sort of thing you were trained for, isn’t it?”

She set a hand on his. “You don't ever want to learn the kinds of things I was trained for,” she said. “Go get Rocket and Drax. I need to figure out which of my weapons I’m going to bring.”

“All of them?” Peter suggested.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Welcome to Kraptilo,” Rocket said as they stepped off the ramp. “Population, idiots.”

Groot woke up just then, stretching. Rocket carried him in an improvised sling. Groot blinked at the sunshine and began to hum. “Alright, alright, we’re on a world of trees, contain yourself,” Rocket said to him.

“Where’s your contact?” Peter asked, closing the ramp behind them.

“I don’t see him,” Gamora spoke.

“I see no one,” Drax said. “Even at the other spaceships. Empty.” He reached for his knives.

“Let’s go have a look around before we start with the stabbing,” Peter said.

“Maybe he’s inside.”

The depot, such as it was, consisted of a lone perma-crete building that sported a roof covered haphazardly with solar batteries.

“It seems unlikely they failed to see us land,” Drax noted.

“Maybe he’s just shy,” Peter said. “Not everyone has your sparkling personality.”

“There is no part of me that sparkles,” Drax said, heading toward the building. Peter gestured to Gamora, who caught up to Drax. He and Rocket followed a few paces back.

“You really know how to pick ‘em, Quill. What’s next, hauling garbage?”

“Hey, this was Gamora’s lead,” Peter said. “I’m with you. This whole thing seems weird.”

Rocket shrugged. “It beats delivering diapers or whatever we did on the last run.”

“Medical supplies for Galadorians,” Peter reminded him. “And all you had to do was tinker with the ship, sleep, and water Groot.”

“That’s all I’ve done on this trip too,” Rocket said. “Oh yeah, and I tweaked your Image Builder some more.” Rocket pulled it out of his bag, aiming it ahead of them. “Maybe we can check out what this place looked like before it was a ruin. Though I’m bettin’ it was just more trees.” He flicked it on, aiming it ahead of them; a cluster of Shi’ar appeared, appearing surprisingly realistic. All of them except Rocket stopped in their tracks; he continued walking, coming right up to a Shi’ar who ignored him. “How’s it hangin’, holo bird guy?”

“That’s a little more than a tweaking,” Peter noted.

“Turn that thing off,” Gamora said, “before someone sees it.”

Rocket turned to her. “Ain’t nobody here to see it but us.” Before she could continue, he switched the device off, returning it to his bag. Gamora and Drax moved past him, entering the depot.

“Don’t get too attached to that,” Peter told him. “It’s mine.” He entered the depot.

“For now,” Rocket muttered, following him.

If possible, the interior of the depot proved even less impressive than the outside. A few local star maps hung along the far wall; the only window in the place was so covered in grime that it barely glowed a dim yellow, and coils of wires hung down from the ceiling, leads from the solar batteries into a collection unit that groaned and vibrated. The air-conditioning worked well; it was almost chilly inside, especially after the warmth of the sunny day. Gamora and Drax approached the lone inhabitant of the depot, a portly old Shi’ar whose thinning hair-feathers had turned almost completely white. Like most male Shi’ar he had cultivated a beard, which hung down to a point several inches past his chin. He smiled pleasantly and said, “Greetings, offworlders. How may Heffaltar be of service?”

“Where is everybody?” Peter asked. Gamora shot him a look.

“I can’t possibly answer where everybody is,” Heffaltar replied. “Could you be a tad more specific, son?”

“We’re here to meet a Shi’ar named Pessar,” Gamora provided. “He was instructed to meet us here.”

Heffaltar frowned. “I don’t know anyone named Pessar.”

“He could be running late,” Gamora said to Peter.

“If he runs much later, he can take his chances with the Kree,” Peter said.

“Kree?” Heffaltar asked. “What’s this about Kree?”

“There is a Kree war fleet on its way here,” Drax informed him.

Heffaltar raised an eyebrow. “The Kree are a long way from here,” he said.

“Everything is a long way from here. That’s why I took the job. I don’t much care for being busy.”

“Ya don’t say,” Rocket said.

“He was with a group of Shi’ar who arrived here a few days ago, maybe as long as a week,” Gamora said.

Heffaltar held out both hands. “Sorry. Can’t help you.”

“Call him,” Peter suggested. “See where he is.” Gamora stepped over toward the star charts for some privacy. Rocket wandered over to inspect the shuddering solar collector.

Drax turned to Peter. “Should I intimidate this man to extract information?”

Peter shook his head. “I don't think this guy has any information to extract. Feels kinda like we woke him up.”

Gamora came over to Peter and Drax. “He’s on his way,” she said. “He said he had a little trouble obtaining transport.”

“Seems to be a running theme with these guys,” Peter said. “This Kalenn sounds like the least competent gunrunner I’ve ever heard of.”

Gamora nodded. “He’s usually more reliable. The incipient war must be making him careless.”

“I hope he’s not this disorganized when it comes time to pay up,” Peter said.

Rocket returned to the group.

“Put it back,” Gamora said.

“What?” Rocket asked.

“Whatever you stole,” she told him.

Rocket laughed. “They don't have anything worth stealing here. That collector’s gotta be about fifty, sixty years old. It’s barely gathering enough juice to keep the air on in here. I’d be afraid to touch that thing, let alone steal something off it. It’s unstable enough as it is.”

“Let’s wait outside,” Drax suggested.

“I don't like the smell in here either,” Peter agreed.

“Not just that,” Drax said. “If something unexpected occurs, we’ll be trapped

in here without even the ability to look outside. This would be a perfect place to trap someone.”

The four of them exchanged glances and headed outside; the only thing awaiting them was the Milano.

Drax said, “Just because it would be a perfect place does not mean anyone else thought of it. We appear to be safe.”

Groot shifted in his sling and mumbled something.

“Yeah, I wish I could sleep through this too. Kinda feels like I already am,” Rocket said.

Peter looked at Gamora.

“I guess we wait,” she said.

*

Close to a half-hour later they spotted an older-model hovercraft making its way down the road, headed toward the depot. They had retreated to the Milano with the thinking that if this were some kind of trap, they would be best prepared to deal with it – or escape – from aboard the ship.

Gamora’s portable screen bleeped, and she answered it.

“Where are you?” Pessar asked. “I’m here, but I don’t see you.”

“When you weren’t there we went back aboard the ship,” Gamora said.

“We’re coming out.”

“We are?” Rocket asked. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Peter checked his scanners. “There’s only one person aboard.”

Gamora frowned. “Let’s go down and see what he wants.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Peter asked.

“Let’s go down and see what he wants,” Gamora repeated.

“Perhaps this Pessar does not understand the nature of a rescue mission,” Drax ventured.

“You guys go ahead,” Rocket said. “I’ll be right there.”

“You are not fetching your weapon for one man,” Gamora said.

“The hell I’m not,” Rocket tossed over his shoulder.

Gamora looked at Peter, who grinned. “At least we’ll look prepared.”

“We’ll look threatening,” Gamora spoke.

“These guys are on the run from the Kree, maybe,” Peter said. “They’ll be reassured if we look threatening.”

The trio headed down the ramp; Rocket, still carrying Groot, caught up with them, and the five of them watched as Pessar emerged from the battered hovercraft. He was lean, even for a Shi’ar, but his hair-feathers had been immaculately groomed, an impressive blue-black sheen rising up above his head. He came over to them, moving slowly, almost nonchalantly.

“Lady Gamora,” he greeted her. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“Pessar,” she spoke. “I was led to believe there would be others.”

"There are,” Pessar admitted.

“So why didn't you bring them?” Peter asked.

“This is...?” Pessar asked.

“The captain of the ship that’s going to fly you out of here,” Peter said. “People call me Star-lord.”

“Star-lord,” Pessar spoke. “Some of them were injured, from the crash. Travel would prove taxing for them.”

“You know they’re going to have to travel to actually leave the planet, right?” Peter asked.

Pessar gestured to his vehicle. “This conveyance does not exactly provide the smoothest of rides.”

“Neither does ours,” Drax spoke.

Gamora folded her arms. “You have our payment?”

“It’s in scrip,” Pessar said. “Back at the compound.”

“Forget the wounded, why didn’t you bring that?” Rocket asked.

Pessar glanced around, though clearly no one else was present. “Kelenn had to lie to you in his initial transmission. It’s not a group of his men who are stranded here.”

“I told you something smelled funny,” Rocket spoke. Groot nodded his agreement.

“Our ship was on the way back to Shi’ar space when we were ambushed by— “

“Is this gonna take long?” Peter interrupted. Gamora glared at him. “I’m only asking because you could tell us the story on the way.”

“Where?” Drax asked.

“The scrip is at the compound and the people are at the compound so why don't we hop on board the Milano, fly there, and I can tractor beam everyone aboard, you can pay us and we can get you the hell out of here,” Peter suggested.

Pessar sighed. “I wish it were that easy.”

“So do I,” Rocket agreed.

“As I was trying to tell you, we encountered a Kree patrol. We destroyed the craft but it damaged our ship. We were forced to crash-land, and a number of the crew were injured, but his Excellency is fine.”

“His Excellency?” Gamora asked.

“On the way,” Peter suggested.

“His Excellency will not allow himself to be tractor-beamed anywhere. He does not trust such devices,” Pessar spoke.

“Does he trust the Kree not to come back and finish him off?” Peter asked.

Gamora scowled at him. “What? If I had a bunch of blue meanies on my ass, I wouldn't be so picky about how I got out of a tight spot.”

“His Excellency refuses to leave the compound without armed escort,” Pessar said.

“Which we are,” Drax spoke.

Quicker than a blink Gamora’s blade was at Pessar’s throat, slicing off his beard. “I came here in good faith and you’ve done nothing but play games with me. I may have new companions, but don’t think I’ve gone soft. If you attempt to betray us in any way I will sever your head before you can breathe.”

“His Excellency is understandably cautious,” Pessar said.

“Yeah? So are we,” Rocket snapped.

“Let’s go,” Peter said. “Let’s go get this guy.”

“You wish us to ride in that dilapidated conveyance?” Drax asked. Peter nodded. “That’s right.”

“Quill, are you stupid? They might as well have painted ‘TRAP’ all over that floating piece of crap,” Rocket said.

“Maybe,” Peter admitted, “but we know there are no Kree here – yet, anyway. If we haul ass and get to this Excellency guy, we can get him to come with us and get off this rock and collect our money.”

Rocket gave him a look.

“Hey, who’s better at convincing people to do stupid shit than I am?” Peter asked.

Gamora withdrew her knife an inch. “Get in. The back, Pessar. I’ll be driving.”

“Shotgun,” Rocket called.

“Dammit,” Peter swore.

*

The hovercraft’s engines whined in protest as Gamora drove it at a speed it hadn’t attempted in quite some time, if ever.

“So,” Peter said, “which excellency are we talking about here? Not that I know much about Shi’ar politics, I’m just curious.”

Pessar glanced at Gamora, then back at Peter. “Azorek,” he answered.

“Crown Prince Azorek?” Gamora asked, keeping her eyes on their path, which skewed closer to a trail than an actual road.

Pessar nodded. “The Majestar’s eldest son.”

“They’re gettin’ off easy at a hundred thousand,” Rocket said. “Quill, you gotta ask for more.”

“We’re in for five hundred thousand,” Peter said.

“Four,” Pessar argued.

Peter leaned forward. “I could ask for a billion and you’d say yes because your crown prince doesn't have any other options. And there might not be any Kree in the neighborhood now, but you can bet they’ll be here soon enough to investigate the loss of a scout craft. So he has time, but not a lot of it. I’m only bumping up the price twenty per-cent because I’m a nice guy. And so Groot gets a share.”

Groot mumbled something high-pitched. Rocket told him, “You’ve spent most of the time asleep in a sling. Quill’s doing you a solid. You’re welcome.”

“Fine,” Pessar said. “Half a million units. And His Excellency’s gratitude, which should count for something.”

“Should but doesn't,” Rocket said.

“You cannot eat gratitude,” Drax offered.

Peter only barely refrained from chuckling. “So what was Azorek doing all the way out here in the boonies?”

“You will refer to him as His Excellency,” Pessar said.

“I’ll refer to him any damn way I please until I get paid,” Peter shot back.

“So answer my question. What was someone so important doing in the ass end of nowhere?”

“The Kree are coming. Their scouting patrols along the border have increased tenfold in the last few months, ever since their peace treaty with the Xandarian Empire. Many along the outer edges of Shi’ar space are nervous. Some have evacuated to more central worlds, but the Majestar is afraid if there is an exodus, we will find our defenses against the Kree lacking. So he dispatched his son to rally people, to show how seriously he takes the matter.”

“This Azorek sounds like a man of honor,” Drax said.

“He is much beloved by the people,” Pessar said.

Peter leaned toward the front of the craft. “Is he?” he asked Gamora.

She nodded. “The Majestar enjoys popularity, but the Shi’ar people have embraced his son. He is by all accounts a noble warrior.”

“What? You’ve never met him?” Peter asked.

Gamora grinned. “It’s not just Kalenn. I don’t have an interest in Shi’ar that way.”

“Glad to hear it,” Peter said, shifting back in his seat. “So how many people we talking here? How many wounded? The Milano isn't that big of a ship.”

“Including His Excellency, nine,” Pessar answered. “But you can leave some of his retinue if space is at a premium.”

“I hear that,” Rocket spoke.

Peter said, “We can fit that many. Everybody’s coming.”

“Just make sure we have room for that huge chest of scrip that they’re –“ Rocket stopped. “There is no scrip, is there?”

Pessar shrugged. “There is some – His Excellency never travels without adequate resources -- but your full payment will have to made at an inner world, where he can gain access to more of his fortune.”

Rocket opened his mouth to complain but Peter held up a hand. “I’m sure we can work something out with the crown prince,” he stated.

“It would be regrettable if we couldn’t,” Drax spoke, shooting a dark look at Pessar.

“So how did you end up in the retinue of the crown prince?” Gamora asked from the front. “You work for a weapons dealer.”

“Do you think His Excellency toured the frontier with merely kind words and his good looks?” Pessar asked.

“He was delivering weapons,” Drax realized.

“I like his style,” Peter said.

Suddenly the hovercraft lurched to one side, throwing everyone to the floor.

“Gamora?” Peter yelled.

“The road is blocked,” she called back. “Is everyone okay?”

Peter glanced around. “No serious injuries,” he said.

Pessar leapt up and kicked open the rear door, darting out of the craft.

“But I think there are about to be,” Peter added.

“That cannot be a good omen,” Drax said, drawing his knives.

“What happened?” Gamora asked.

“Pessar took off,” Peter said, drawing his guns.

“Now are you glad I went back for my rifle?” Rocket said, shifting the sling so that Groot rode on his back.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Peter growled.

“Take a number,” Gamora said.

*

Peter poked his head out the back of the hovercraft and was rewarded with a wave of gunfire bouncing off the metal door. “Something tells me this wasn’t an accident.”

“Idiots,” Rocket spoke. “They hit us going the wrong way. They were supposed to wait until we had the high and mighty and then spring the trap.” He primed his rifle. “Look at it this way, Quill, at least we’re dealing with amateurs.” He lay down, inching forward on the floor until just the tip of his rifle poked out. Rocket sighted by his scope; he could see no one.

“Okay, so you’re amateurs with camouflage,” he groused, switching to a thermal setting. Still he saw no one.

“Aw, crap, Quill,” he spoke.

Peter frowned, peering into the woods. “What?”

“No heat signatures,” Rocket said. “Cold blooded.”

“Badoon?” Peter asked.

“Well I can't see any, but that’s usually who you hire if you’re in the business for lizard killers,” Rocket said. “Not amateurs. Just the opposite.”

“Yet they still committed the error of attacking us on the way to the crown prince,” Drax noted. “So they cannot be that smart.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something, thought the better of it, then crawled forward to the driver’s seat. “Gamora, do you –“ He stopped when he didn't see her.

“Anybody seen Gamora?” he asked.

“Again with this pointless interrogative,” Drax spoke.

“Little busy,” Rocket spat, firing his rifle. A tree fell over, but if any Badoon were hit, none of them made any noise. Groot tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a grenade, which Rocket loaded and fired.

“Wait wait wait!” Peter said, too late; the grenade blasted apart two trees and set some brush aflame. This time they heard screaming.

“Hold it with the explosives,” Peter said.

“You got a better idea?” Rocket asked.

“Gamora’s out there,” Peter said. “Probably taking them out one by one. So let’s not blow her up.”

Rocket shook his head at Groot, who held another grenade. Groot looked up at Peter scowling at him and offered a sheepish grin.

“I will check the other side of the road to see if we can escape there and gain some cover,” Drax said, leaping out of the hovercraft and covering the half-dozen yards to the trees far faster than either of them expected.

“I hope there’s more of them up there,” Rocket said, “so that way the two green people can take care of business while you, me, and Groot shoot the shit.”

“Badoon aren’t this sloppy,” Peter said. “There’s no way they would make a mistake this dumb to hit us on the way in.”

“Maybe some idiot had an itchy trigger-finger,” Rocket said.

“Maybe there is no crown prince,” Peter said.

“Don’t say that,” Rocket said. “Even if it makes sense, don’t say that. If there’s no crown prince bird boy, then there’s no scrip, which means we’re out here getting shot at for no good reason.”

“Somebody thinks there’s a good reason,” Peter said.

Drax came barreling back into the hovercraft. “They left that side of the road open. We could escape into cover.”

“What about Gamora?” Peter asked.

“She is one of the deadliest assassins in the galaxy,” Drax responded. “If the Badoon knew what was good for them, they would yield to her. Also, Rocket might not be the only one armed with explosives, and we are rather confined in here.”

They followed Drax out of the hovercraft with all due haste, heading toward the forest; the Badoon opened fire, but they were either caught by surprise at the trio’s mad dash or remained skittish of the explosion Rocket had caused, or a combination of the two. Their shots went wide, splintering the trees but missing the sprinting warriors. After several yards Drax stopped, Peter and Rocket pulling up short behind him.

“The compound is that way,” Drax gestured.

“How do you know?” Peter asked.

“That’s where the road leads,” Drax responded.

“What does that matter?” Rocket asked. “There’s no reason to go there. This whole thing was a trap to get us out here in the middle of nowhere so that a bunch of idiot Badoon could shoot us.”

“The compound would offer cover and possibly supplies,” Drax argued.

“We’ll go,” Peter said. “Lead on, Drax.”

“Quill,” Rocket said, “you don't know that’s a better defensive position.”

“And we don’t know how many Badoon are out here,” Peter said. “They saw us run over here, so some of them are bound to follow. We keep moving, we keep distance between us.” He took off after Drax.

“What about the broad? How’s she gonna find us?” Rocket asked.

Peter pulled his portable screen out of his pocket. “Gamora, I know you can’t answer this because you’re a little preoccupied at the moment killing Badoon, and by the way thank you, but the rest of us are headed for the compound in the hope that there actually is a crown prince. See you there.”

“So smooth,” Rocket teased him, running behind him. “No wonder all the ladies swoon for you.”

“Anything happens to her, I’m gonna kill Pessar myself,” Peter spoke.

“I’d kill him anyway,” Rocket said, “whether she’s okay or not.”

*

Gamora considered appropriating the dead Badoon’s weapon, some sort of automatic projectile rifle, but they were heavy and loud and had been built for Badoon; she could fit two of her fingers on the trigger and the sight didn't line up for her more-closely-set eyes. She laid it down atop the corpse and kept moving. The forest provided excellent cover, and the Badoon had, true to their mentality of honoring individual prowess above all, spread out. This made them easier to hunt; she had already dispatched three, and listened for more gunfire, when ahead of her perhaps twenty yards two trees blew up. _Rocket, you moron, stop using grenades_ , she willed silently, finding another Badoon well-hidden amongst the brush. Like her, they had green skin, but theirs was darker, tougher, and scalier. _As long as I stay upwind of them I should be fine_.

The Badoon opened up a fusillade, and she looked through the trees to see her companions exit the hovercraft and scatter into the trees on the opposite side of the road. _They are all resourceful and should be able to get themselves out of trouble._ She crept up to the next Badoon and stabbed him at the base of the neck, her sword slicing through his throat, both silencing and killing him. She bent down next to the corpse, looking for another target, when a Badoon further down the line let out a loud cry, and the group of mercenaries stormed the hovercraft. Gamora stayed where she was; there were far more than she had expected, maybe three dozen, and they were bound to notice, after inspecting the empty hovercraft, that some of their number were missing. She stepped back deeper into the forest, listening, but she heard nothing other than the guttural grunts of frustration from the Badoon. _It would be helpful if my friends would move toward the compound rather than set up an ambush_ , she thought, though the Badoon are all clustered close together by the hovercraft. She moved back to the most recent corpse she had made and searched it for grenades, but the soldier had carried none. She considered the gun, but Badoon weapons didn’t fire fast enough to kill the entire crowd before they would be upon her, and she would give away her greatest asset, the fact that they didn't know she was there. She retraced her steps back and felt a vibration at her hip. She withdrew her screen from her pocket – she had muted it on her way out of the vehicle – and smiled inside when she saw Peter’s features appear. She could lipread well enough to make out _thank you_ and _crown prince_ and _compound_ ; she replaced the screen and disappeared into the jungle, moving parallel to the road, heading for the compound.

_The Badoon must be heading for the compound_ , she reasoned as she moved. _That’s the only logical reason why they would attack us on the way there._ _Badoon mercenaries are not that stupid. Not the ones I’ve encountered, anyway._ She assumed the Kree would hire mercenaries to cover their tracks, _but wouldn't they want credit for killing the crown prince?_ Much of this didn't add up, _unless there is no crown prince, but then why would Pessar and by extension Kalenn set up a trap for me? I’ve been a good customer and even sent business his way. There’s no profit in killing me._

_Of course my units came from Thanos_ , she thought as she passed the spot where she had killed the first Badoon she had encountered. _But there’s no chance he’s behind this. If Thanos cared enough about me to want me dead, I’d be dead already. I doubt he spares me a second thought, which is fine by me._ She quickened her pace, darting between the trees as a black blur, moving as quietly as she could, forsaking a little stealth for speed. Quicker than she expected she spotted the compound; they would have reached it in the hovercraft in another few minutes.

Six squat buildings of much the same design of the depot sat in a cluster, two rows of three, all featuring solar collectors of a much more recent vintage than the depot. A tall metal or wooden fence, she couldn't be sure, encircled the buildings, featuring a gate that currently stood closed. She spotted a few video devices; they’d be seen approaching the buildings, there would be no way around that, but so would the Badoon. If anything Pessar had said was on the level, she and the others, once they got here, should be safe once they got inside.

Gamora moved up to the edge of the trees, maybe five yards from the fence, and debated what to do next. She could rush the fence and jump it, but that would likely startle anyone within, and she lacked Peter’s way with words to talk her way out of such a situation. Before she could decide on the best course of action, Peter, Drax, and Rocket emerged from the trees on the other side of the road. “Hey, Crown Prince Azorek, your rescue party is here.”

“If yer even friggin’ real,” Rocket added.

Gamora grinned and emerged from the trees to join them.

Peter smiled at her appearance.

“I told you she would be unharmed,” Drax spoke.

“You were worried about me?” Gamora asked Peter.

He shrugged. “They were just Badoon, you know. No challenge for you. Hey, we got away safe, and you’re way more bad-ass than we are.”

“Speak for yourself, humie,” Rocket said. “Hey come on, Prince, open up. If we wanted inside we’d’ve already blown a hole in your little gate.”

“Not to mention the score of Badoon warriors who are no doubt heading this way,” Drax added.

“Make that two score,” Gamora spoke. “Though I didn't spot Pessar among them.”

“He’s probably halfway back to the depot by now,” Peter said. He looked up at one of the video surveillance units and waved.

“There is no place he can run that I will not find him and make him pay for what he did,” Gamora said.

“I’m glad I’m on your good side,” Peter said.

The gate opened slowly to reveal three Shi’ar wearing red uniforms pointing rifles at them.

“Three?” Rocket asked. “You sent three guys? You’ve obviously never heard of us.”

“The Crown Prince will see you now,” one of the guards spoke.

“I’m so glad he’s real,” Rocket muttered.

“I’d close that gate pretty quick,” Peter said as they entered. “There’s a whole bunch of unhappy Badoon behind us headed this way.”

“Why do you think the Crown Prince wants to see you?” the guard answered. “Come.”

Peter turned to Gamora. “Man, if that was all just a job audition back there I’m gonna be really pissed.”

*

Crown Prince Azorek stood taller than any of them save Drax; he wore his hair-feathers shorn low, a collection of short blue-black spikes that framed what could only generously be called a plain face. Like most Shi’ar he wore a beard, but again cut close, stubbly almost. He wore the same uniform as his men, no special adornment, a long slender Shi’ar pistol at his hip. “It is my honor to meet you,” he spoke, his voice higher-pitched than his barrel-chested physique promised. “Kalenn said you were among the best.” He leaned back against the desk that had been wedged in between two beds along the back wall.

“Kalenn may have much to answer for,” Gamora spoke. “We were ambushed on the way here by Badoon mercenaries. It seems unlikely they were working for the Kree.”

“You didn't know anything about them, did you?” Peter asked.

Azorek regarded him. “That’s an odd question.”

“Badoon are too greedy and lazy to work for free,” Peter said. “Somebody paid rather handsomely for a couple dozen of them to fly all the way out here to make our lives more difficult. If it wasn’t the Kree—“

“We have no way to ascertain for certain that it wasn’t the Kree,” Drax said. Peter looked at him. “Assuming for the moment it wasn’t the Kree, who –“

“Why should we assume it was not the Kree?” Drax asked. “They have motive and resources. If Kalenn was foolish enough to betray Gamora, they could easily be his paymasters.”

“Kalenn is someone I trust,” Azorek said. “He gave – not sold, but gave – me the weapons to distribute to the populace here, and on other border worlds.”

“What populace? The fat old guy back at the depot?” Rocket asked.

Azorek looked down at the raccoon. “It seems now that I was led out here specifically to be trapped in a remote location so that I could be killed. But Kalenn is a loyalist, he is not behind this.”

“Pessar?” Peter asked Gamora.

“I would not have thought him capable of arranging something like this,” she said. “I may have underestimated him.”

“Maybe the scaly crew hit us because we were on the way to help his magnificence here,” Rocket said. He looked up at Azorek. “Please tell us you’re rich. We’ve been promised a lot of units to get you off this stinkhole.”

“That may be the least of your worries now,” Azorek said.

“Getting paid is never the least of my worries,” Rocket said.

Azorek grinned. “I will honor any agreement you have made, so long as you get me out of here alive.” He looked at Peter. “We were aware that someone was out in the woods, but not who or what. You say Badoon; I would almost rather Kree.” He waved a hand. “So be it. What is your plan for getting me out of here?”

“They have the road blocked with the damaged hovercraft,” Drax said. “A race back to our ship might not be possible.”

“I’d rather not have to shoot our way past a crew of Badoon warriors,” Azorek spoke.

“We wouldn’t have to if you had let me fire that incendiary grenade at the hovercraft while we were running away through the trees,” Rocket aimed at Peter. Groot held up and shook the grenade in question.

“I told you, it was too risky,” Peter said. “If it didn't work, I didn't want to be in a footrace with a bunch of guys who blend into the jungle so well that we can't see them, even on thermal vision.” He shook his head. “Sorry about this,” he said to Azorek. “We’re usually a little more organized.”

“No we’re not,” Rocket said. “Hey magnificence, you got anything to drink here?”

“There’s some water in the stores shed,” Azorek spoke. “Help yourselves.” Rocket clambered up the desk and popped out the rear window.

“We have a ship back at the depot that can carry you and your men,” Gamora told him. “We just have to get to it.”

“Perhaps if we wait until dark, we would have a better chance of catching them by surprise, and our smaller numbers would be less of a deficit,” Drax suggested.

“Badoon can see in the dark,” Gamora said. “And only you and I can, and thermal view won’t work.”

“We can’t just hole up here,” Peter said. “That fence is wood. It won’t hold the Badoon for a minute.”

Azorek folded his arms. “I am open to suggestion. If we thought we could just sprint to the depot, we already would have.”

“One way or another, we’re gonna have to take care of those Badoon,” Peter said. “Let me go check with Rocket, see what kind of explosives he’s carrying.” He looked at Azorek. “We’ll get you out of here, you have my word.”

“I expect nothing less from the saviors of Xandar,” he said, grinning.

“That is never gonna get old,” Peter murmured under his breath as he exited the building.

*

“Watch where you’re walkin’!” Rocket snapped at Peter as he entered the stores building.

Peter stopped short. “What the hell?”

Rocket had sliced one of the large jugs of water in half and converted it to a pool for Groot, who sat chest deep in it, humming to himself. Rocket had found a cup and held it for Groot whenever he wanted a drink.

“This is why you asked for something to drink?”

“I was thirsty,” Rocket answered. “I just took advantage of the fact that they have like fifty barrels here to give Groot some. I told you, at this stage, he needs a lot of water.” Rocket held the cup up, and Groot nodded, drinking deep. “But I’m bettin’ that’s not why you chased me down.”

Peter sat on one of the large jugs. “What kind of weaponry did you bring?”

“Besides my rifle?” Rocket asked.

“Explosives,” Peter clarified.

“I got a couple of grenades, one or two of ‘em fiery,” he said. “Didn’t have time to grab much else. I got more on the ship, but we ain’t there.”

“If we can get the Badoon clustered, could you take them out?”

“Not with one shot,” Rocket said. “If I could shoot all the grenades rapid-fire, maybe, but they could scatter between shots.” Rocket shrugged. “Anyway they’re not just gonna line up for us all nice and neat.”

“What if they did?” Peter asked.

“If you could keep ‘em there, yeah, but you can’t,” Rocket said. He turned to look at Peter. “What are you thinkin’?”

“I have an idea,” Peter said. “It’s not a great idea, yet, so I’m not gonna tell you and have you bitch about it. I gotta go talk to Drax and Gamora first. I’ll be back.”

After he had left, Rocket said to Groot, “He means well, he really does.”

“I am Groot,” Groot squeaked, his voice high as a whistle.

“You’re stayin’ right where you are,” Rocket said. “If you were a little bigger maybe, but you’re too small. You’re sittin’ this one out.”

“I am Groot,” Groot argued.

“I know you want to help,” Rocket said. “But these Badoon mean business, and you’re too little yet to take one of their shots. This ain’t that tight a spot. Believe me, buddy, if I thought it was, I’d let you help.”

Groot sighed. “I am Groot.”

“Course I’m right,” Rocket said. “I’m always right.” He held up the cup for Groot, who once again drank deep. “Gotta tell you, I don't know why this magnificence guy didn't just call for help when his ship crashed.” Rocket furrowed his brow and removed his screen from his pocket. He called Peter.

“Yo, Quill, question. Why didn't king feather-head there just call for help? For that matter, why don’t we?”

“Hold on,” Peter said. “I’ll ask him.”

Rocket could hear voices on the other end; Groot sank under water and came back up, sputtering, shaking his head.

“He says there’s something interfering with calls off-planet. Local calls are fine, but you can’t call anywhere off world.”

“And you believe that?” Rocket asked.

“I had Gamora try. He’s right. Can't get through anywhere but here. Looks like we’re the cavalry, Rocket.”

“But she contacted Pessar from orbit,” Rocket pointed out.

“Which Pessar would allow is he was the one scrambling the signals,” Peter said.

“Okay, okay, just thought I’d ask,” Rocket said.

Peter put away his screen. “So Pessar and the Badoon did think this through.”

“I think your plan could work,” Drax said. “But I suggest we execute it after

sundown. I know the Badoon have an advantage in darkness, but your ruse would work better without sunlight to interfere.”

“That’s another four hours,” Azorek said. “Do you think the Badoon will wait that long?”

“Probably not,” Peter said. He tapped his screen. “Rocket, you almost done playing bathtub with Groot?”

“Yeah,” Rocket said. “He’s done, he’s just goofing around. We’ll be there in a minute or two.” A pause. “Sounds like your idea got a little better.”

“I like to think so,” Peter said.

*

“They are approaching,” Azorek spoke, watching the feed from one of the surveillance screens. “Cautiously, perhaps, but they are approaching.” He turned to Peter. “How are your preparations coming?”

“Rocket?” Peter asked.

Rocket tapped the Image Builder. “Ready as I’m gonna be,” he said.

Peter turned back to Azorek. “Have your men take their places,” he said. He turned to the members of his team. “Everybody know what they have to do?”

Nods met him all around. “Okay then, be where you need to be.” As they began to move, Peter stepped in front of Gamora. “Except you.”

“What?” she asked.

Peter glanced over his shoulder, waiting until Drax and Rocket, who again carried Groot on his back, left the building. “I want you to be careful,” he said, his voice low.

“Your concern is touching,” she said, “but I’ll be fine. My part is far less dangerous than yours.” She slid a hand to his chest, then pulled it back. “You be careful. No heroics.”

“Gotta be heroic to pull this off,” he said, smirking. “I’ll be okay.”

“I would rather be here with you, slitting throats and taking Badoon lives,” she said.

“You say the sexiest things,” Peter told her. Despite herself, Gamora grinned. He leaned in and kissed her, briefly, just lips, and pulled back.

“What was that for?” Gamora asked.

“For luck,” he said. “And, I just wanted to kiss you. Thought we should have at the end of the date.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “I will save my kiss until after we get off this planet.”

“You don’t want to wish me luck?” he asked.

“I’m trying to provide you motivation to be careful,” she spoke.

“I don’t need extra motivation not to die,” Peter said.

Gamora frowned at him. “Fine. Have it your way.” She moved past him, toward the door.

“But I’ll take that kiss all the same when we make it back to the Milano,” he said. She grinned over her shoulder as she left the building.

“God, this had better work,” he said to himself. He checked his guns and headed out into the compound.

Azorek and his men stood to one side, Rocket and Drax to the other. Gamora had already hopped the tall fence and taken off into the jungle. Peter nodded to Azorek and then to Rocket. “You know the plan,” Peter said. “Everybody get ready and—“

“Star-lord!” a voice called out. “I know you can see me and hear me.”

Peter darted back into the building with the surveillance screen; it was Pessar who spoke. I guess he didn't bolt off for the depot like we thought.

“We have you trapped and surrounded,” he said. “I have no interest in you or any of your crew. Send Azorek out and we will spare you. You and your Guardians can walk right out of here.”

Peter came back outside. “Can we get a ride back to the ship?” he asked. Azorek glared at him; Peter gestured with both palms facing toward the ground, though he had no idea if Shi’ar understood that meant relax, I got this.

“What?” Pessar asked.

“If we give up Azorek like you asked, will you give us a ride back to the ship? It’s a long way and we’re all kinda tired, we really don’t feel like walking all the way back to the depot.”

“We’re on foot, Star-lord,” Pessar spoke. “We can’t give you a ride back to your ship.”

Peter cocked an eyebrow. “No deal then. Guess you’ll just have to come in here and get him.”

“We have you outnumbered by a wide margin,” Pessar said. “You will be killed.”

“I don’t think you have us outnumbered,” Peter said. “I can see your forces, but you can’t see mine.”

Pessar growled. “Just hand him over!”

“You’re not really good at this, are you, Pessar?” Peter asked.

One of the Badoon shimmered suddenly, revealing a much smaller, slimmer physique. “No, he’s not,” the slender one spoke, ramming a sword between Pessar’s shoulder blades, piercing his heart, killing him. The Badoon troops snickered and nodded; a few of them chuckled.

“Listen up, Quill,” the killer said. “I could not care less about some Shi’ar prince or the Kree or any of this. All I want is my sister’s head on a pike.”  
Peter looked at Drax, who shrugged, and Rocket, who did likewise.

“She’s gotta be talking about Gamora,” he said in a low voice. 

Rocket said, “I don’t see any other broads around here.”

Peter dashed back into the surveillance structure to see a bald blue woman with one hand holding a sword. He stepped back out and said, “Sorry, but you’re out of luck. We left her back on Xandar.”

The figure leapt the fence easily, landing between a startled Azorek and Peter and his crew. “I saw her at the ambush,” Nebula said, “so stop screwing around and wasting my time.”

“Look around,” Peter said. “She’s not here. We’re not hiding her. She literally is not here.”

Nebula glanced around, spotting only the Guardians and Azorek and his troops.

Peter nodded to Rocket, who slid his hand in his bag and activated the Image Builder.

Shi’ar troopers began emerging from each structure, a handful at first, but soon a few dozen had congregated. Nebula watched them.

“I wasn’t lying about the outnumbering thing,” Peter said. “We can take your Badoon troopers, lady.”

Nebula scowled. “I saw her! I saw her driving that hovercar.”

“She’s not here,” Peter said. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Okay, I totally would, but I’m not now.”

Nebula raised her sword. “Then I’ll just kill you.”

Drax stepped in front of Peter, drawing his blades. “No you won’t.”

Rocket tipped his rifle upward so it aimed at her chest. “Guess again, baldy.” Nebula held the sword aimed at Peter’s throat. “Tell Gamora this isn't over.”

“And you are...?” Peter asked.

“Her sister,” Nebula said. “She’ll know who I am.” Nebula took a step back, and, before Rocket could fire, vaulted over the fence, heading off into the jungle. Rocket looked up at Peter. “What the freakin’ hell was that?”

“I have no idea,” Peter said.

“There are still the Badoon to consider,” Drax spoke. “Though I would rather have fought that angry blue bald woman. She seemed to possess superior skill. At least superior to the Badoon.”

Peter tapped his portable screen. “Hi, it’s me. I know you don’t have time to answer this right now seeing as you’re sprinting for the ship, and please keep doing that, but when we get together again we’re going to have to have a talk about your angry sister you told me was dead who very much isn’t and seems to be really pissed off at you.” He tapped the screen.

“Not seems,” Drax added.

“I already ended the call,” Peter told him.

“I was merely making an observation,” Drax said.

“What about the Badoon?” Azorek asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Peter said. “Continue with the plan. Should be even easier now that they’ve had one leader killed and another disappear. Let’s go, everybody!” he called out, as the flesh-and-blood fighters took their positions and the gate swung open to reveal fifty Shi’ar warriors, fully armed.

“Listen up, you ugly Badoon, we’ve got a whole bunch of guys in here, and a bunch more coming at you through the woods. Pretty soon you’re gonna be surrounded. You’ve already lost your leader, and in another couple of minutes you’re all gonna be dead. Or, and this is a one time take-it-or-leave-it offer, you guys can throw down your guns and walk back up the road and we’ll let you go. But if anybody gets violent or makes a move, we’re gonna shoot you all, and none of you are gonna survive this.”

Peter waited as the Badoon grunted among themselves for a long moment, and then said, “Okay, Rocket, let ‘em have it.”

Rocket fired an incendiary grenade directly into the middle of the Badoon squad; it went off, injuring some of them and setting a few on fire. As the Badoon raced for the trees, the Shi’ar, Peter, and Rocket fired, taking out a few more, but at least half the squad had retreated to safety of the jungle.

“That was exactly what I didn't want to happen,” Peter griped.

“Relax, Quill,” Rocket said. “I’ll scatter them.” He fired his last incendiary into the woods to their left, setting several trees ablaze and sending the Badoon there running. The real and imaginary Shi’ar fired off into the jungle on the other side of the road, and Rocket lobbed a grenade there for good effect. “We don't have to kill ‘em all, although personally I don’t mind if we do. We just gotta stall ‘em until the broad gets back with the ship.”

Azorek moved over to Peter. “Do all your plans end with explosions?”

Peter nodded. “Usually.”

*

It took the better part of an hour to Gamora to return with the Milano; the sun had sunk below the treeline, although the day remained reasonably bright. She could not land the vessel in the compound, so she beamed the party up to the ship, one at a time as Peter had a smaller, cheaper unit, starting with Azorek and his men and bringing up Rocket last so that the illusion of the Shi’ar guards could be played out as long as possible. None of the Badoon took any potshots at the Milano, which Peter had worried about, and they were away from the planet before the sun had fully set on the compound.

Azorek thanked them for their rescue, and while he had indeed not carried much scrip with him, he had directed Peter to fly him to Binato, the closest planet with a sizeable Shi’ar population that would not only guarantee his safety but support a banking system robust enough for him to gather enough credits to pay the Guardians.

After Peter had set the course he turned to Drax, Rocket and Groot; Groot had grown large enough so that Rocket could no longer carry him, and he sat in a makeshift booster seat of Rocket’s improvising. _I used to hate sitting in those_ , Peter thought as he considered Groot for a moment, until he realized that his Walkman sat on Groot’s lap, orange headphones nestled comfortably on his woody noggin. Groot bobbed his head back and forth, his eyes closed, smiling.

“Hey!” Peter snapped.

“What?” Rocket asked. “You said he could use it.”

Peter pointed a finger at Rocket. “Just make sure he’s careful.”

“I will,” Rocket said. “You know, we’re not all careless oafs like you, Quill,”

Rocket said. Groot opened his eyes and reached down to switch off the tape. “I am Groot?” he asked in his high voice.

“Nah, Quill’s just being irritating,” Rocket said, unstrapping Groot from the chair. “Come on, I think he wants some alone-time with the broad.” Groot followed him out of the cockpit, humming the song he had just been listening to.

Peter looked at Drax. “I do actually want some alone-time with Gamora,” he said.

“Perhaps I should stay in the cockpit and you two should adjourn to your room,” Drax said.

“Not that kind of alone-time,” Peter said.

Drax stood up, giving Peter a long gaze, and then looking at Gamora. “I would very much enjoy fighting your sister, if you don't get to her first.” He turned and left the cockpit.

“So, we’re alone,” Gamora said.

“We’re on the Milano, away from the planet,” he said.

“I’m aware of our surroundings,” she said.

“You promised me something,” he said in a low voice.

“I did,” Gamora agreed. She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. “There.”

Peter looked at her. “Are you kidding me? I survived a double-cross by some Shi’ar and your creepy sister and all I get is a peck on the cheek?”

“It is a kiss,” Gamora said.

“No it isn’t,” Peter argued.

Gamora nodded. “Actually, it is, but...” She leaned in and locked lips with him, kissing him fully, for a long moment, before she released him. “I’m sure that was more along the lines of what you were hoping for.”

“Well, yeah,” Peter said.

“Given that you had to deal with Nebula, I owed you at least that much,” Gamora said. “I really thought she was dead. The next time we meet, she will be.”

“I thought you had anger issues,” Peter said.

Gamora looked at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“See? Right there. That’s what I mean. You have a bit of a temper. But you’re like a calm lake next to your sister.” Peter gave her his warmest look.

“You don’t know what she went through,” Gamora spoke.

“It couldn't have been any worse than what you went through, and you turned out okay,” he said. “I mean, I know having friends has been a good influence on you, but you turned your back on Ronan and Thanos before you met us. You’d already made the choice to change your life. We’re just helping you with it, that’s all.”

Gamora looked at him. “Are you being nice, or are you buttering me up for another kiss?”

“Is there any reason it can’t be both?” he asked. She leaned in and kissed him again.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I'm already working on another one.

**Author's Note:**

> First posting to Ao3. Please leave kudos and feedback so I know to post more.


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